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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27949775">Isn’t It Romantic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxxvi/pseuds/maxxvi'>maxxvi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - 1930s, Eren is a solider, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Internalized Homophobia, Jean is a singer, M/M, Public Execution, Rebellion, Sneaking Around, Suicide, Theater - Freeform, World War II, lots of gay people, this is a bumpy ass ride, uhhh dont read into these tags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:47:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27949775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxxvi/pseuds/maxxvi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris is now occupied by Germany from a defeating loss in war. Now Eren Jeager has to try and care as a german solider but one voice might bring him some purpose after all.</p><p>Inspired by reading mlm love letters during WWII.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jean Kirstein &amp; Eren Yeager, Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey! i’ve been trying to write this fic for so long but with season four airing, this is a better time than ever to finally put it out here. also for any historic buffs, it’s not going to be 100% accurate because fuck you i said so. anyways enjoy &lt;3.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eren lays in his backyard and stares at the moving sky. He had to get out of his house because his father was listening to the radio about something tragic happening in Southern Europe but Eren couldn't care less. He hated to hear the radio, whenever Grisha turned it on it only told them bad things. Things that would make him rave and rant for hours. Eren was sick and tired of hearing the negatives in the world and he just wants to close his eyes to take a nap in the sun.</p><p>"Eren!" Mikasa runs to Eren and she looks down at him from the railing. She pushes her hair behind her ears enough for him to see the scar on her cheek. Eren looked towards his sister but with a wary expression, "Napping again are we? Mama wants us to clean the kitchen and prepare for visitors."</p><p>"Visitors?" It took Eren a moment to think and remember it's his half-brother's birthday, Zeke. He's much older than Eren and Mikasa so he barely comes to see them. Grisha's proud of him because he works hard for Germany's government, "Tell Mama I'll be right there." </p><p>She sighs and walks back into the house. Mikasa has grown to know that Eren couldn't be asked much because all he wants to do is relax. There was never anything exciting for Eren to do rather than to drift away and dream of a more thrilling experience than cleaning the house with his Mother and sister. There was simply nothing to do.</p><p>Carla storms out to the patio, "Eren!" He shakes his head and closes his eyes, "Eren!" He blocks her out by covering his own ears. He doesn't want to repeat a silly process and he doesn't want to listen to dad and he doesn’t care about Zek-</p><p>A boot was flown into his face, "Ow!" Eren covered his face and rubbed his cheek and nose. He was awake now. Eren sighs and remembers where he is. Back in a German base in Paris. He dreams about the peacefulness back in Germany before the country came under new management. His father forced him into the military. Now he must deal with boneheaded soldiers and overbearing commanders. Eren turns his head to his roommate, Armin Arlert. His roommate is a strange fellow, he has blonde hair, small stature, and a book obsession. Armin always followed the rules because if he didn't then the blond wouldn't last long. That's how things are around here. Eren sits up and darts his eyes at Armin, "What's your problem?"</p><p>"Do you want to be late? What our supervisors would do if they saw you sleeping in?" Armin looks rushed as he puts on his jacket and pants. Eren groans, standing up to grab his uniform. The light grey was not Eren's color as Mikasa would tell him but all their uniforms looked bland. He puts on his pants and shirt with his jacket on top. Eren looks at the mirror and fixes his hair. Oh how bad he wants to grow it out but the military will have none of that. Armin puts on his boots and rushes out, leaving the door open. He was too ambitious for his own good.</p><p>Eren quickly followed him into the breakfast area. The room was almost filled to the brim, most people were up hours before Eren was. He goes into the food line and grabs an apple, making his way to a table with some people he tolerates. Braun was a bone-head but he was friendly and fun to be around. He was a large framed man who was undeniably German with blue eyes and blond hair. Hoover sat next to Braun and they were bunk mates. He was about 6'4 and sweats more than Canary missing a note. </p><p>"Good morning boys," Eren sat next to Armin and gave a friendly smile to the two in front of him, "What are you doing today?"</p><p>"Hoover and I are just patrolling for any suspicious activity. Apparently the Moquis are operating within Paris more frequently than before. Damn resistance groups, making our jobs harder." Braun huffed and took a large bite out of his apple. </p><p>"If the Moquis weren't being as active then you might have to be on the frontlines. We should be a small bit thankful for them," Hoover patted his friend's back and Armin gave him a glare, "Joking, of course."</p><p>"Don’t even humor that sort of nonsense. Smith said there's a likely chance there's a spy among us. I won't be taking any chances." </p><p>Hoover nodded and an awkward silence fell onto them. Eren felt as if Armin followed the rules too strictly but with drumsticks like that, blond can't afford to battle in the frontlines.</p><p>Breakfest ended shortly after and Eren had to tend to his duties. His job was primarily to keep watch for any rebellious groups like the Moquis and to establish dominance against the french by simply being there. Eren isn’t too upset with his job, he usually patrol with one other person but they never accompany him. The brunt met him once and never saw him again so he usually goofs off and hides at the end of a café. Sometimes, on days like these, his usual café would close and he would be back to wondering the streets.</p><p>The brunt understands why every Frenchman hated him, of course they would never say it to his face, their looks are proof enough. Eren sighs and looks down on his feet, he wishes his dad didn’t force him into this. He’s helping the people he doesn’t give a shit about. He’s contributing to a country that’s giving these people misery. He’s cooperating because if he doesn’t, he’ll be sent to the frontlines. Eren’s too scared to find out if he could even survive it. A coward. </p><p>Eren had to get away. He liked to stay at the café because the brunt adored people watching, seeing how others act and what they do when they don't know when someone is looking. Mikasa liked to pull on the skin in front of her throat when she wasn't doing anything, his mother always hummed and swayed while his father would have a permanent scowl. Eren learned a lot through watching but it’s hard to people watch when so many are staring at him.</p><p>The man in uniform turned the corner and landed at a theater. Eren remembers seeing it from time to time but never went inside, if it’s dark enough he can hide himself from the stares. He went inside and saw someone at the ticket booth. There must be a show going on. The brunt grabbed the sheet for performances and the list went, "Manager and hostess; Petra Ral, Opening Act ; Jean Kirschtein (Isn't It Romantic), Dancing Act; Connie Springer and Sasha Blouse..." Eren skimmed through the rest but his eyes focused on a name. He shook it off and went to the ticket master, buying his way in.</p><p>Eren walked into the theater and it was large. The auditorium consisted of dark wood and red clothed seats like any normal theater. The brunt made his way to the back where the lights wouldn't hit him. No need to worry any patrons over a lazy, German solider. He might as well take a nap in here, Eren doesn’t need to go back for another few hours. If they ask, there was a crowd blocking his path. He yawned and took off his hat the comb through his hair. Grimacing, knowing he’ll have to cut it.</p><p>The lights on stage suddenly came on. A short woman ran on stage and smiled bright enough for Eren to see it. “Hello ladies and gentlemen! I hope you all are enjoying your afternoon, I’m Petra Ral! We’ve been working extremely hard to brighten the spirits of our people so please relax.” Eren listened half way before closing his eyes to doze off. The pamphlet stated that the entire performance would be about two hours. Just enough for a nice nap.</p><p>“Now for our opening act! Jean Kirschtein!” Overlapping clapping commenced and Eren put his hat back on to cover the light from the stage. He was beginning to fall asleep until a sound brought him awake.</p><p>“Isn’t it romantic? Music in the night, a dream that can be heard.” A deep, smooth voice brought Eren’s attention back to the stage. The brunt took his hat off to get a proper look at the fellow but sat too far away. He could make out brown, maybe blonde hair and very fair skin (that could be from the stage lighting). The singer looked over six foot, if Eren had to guess by voice alone, he’s handsome. There was something in the way he swayed on stage that kept the brunt staring. He looked to be charming the audience, keeping their attention on him. How could anyone take their eyes away. His stomach dropped when the man finished his song.</p><p>The blonde walked off stage with the next performers coming after him. Clapping filled the theater and the next two came, the sheet saying they’re performing a duet. Eren didn’t care too much. He stayed still in his seat wondering how a human voice can mesmerize him so much.</p><p>Eren usually hyper fixated on strange things that Mikasa would make fun of him for. For years during his youth, Eren loved playing with frogs and was fascinated by how they moved (even trying to jump like one). When he got older, he enjoyed making bread with his mom a little too much, his attention was taken up by how the bread would rise. </p><p>Now, Eren is in awe over the voice of a random stranger. There must be something he can do to speak with him, hear that sound again. It’d be hard, considering the uniform but maybe he can get him flowers? That wouldn’t be too peculiar, people give performers flowers if they did well on stage. Why would he try not to be peculiar, he was clearly German. Eren only knew the basics of French but his father taught him fluent English so maybe he could have a conversation with him.</p><p>The performances ended and Eren got up quickly to buy a gift. A flower cart was not too far from the theater and he bought roses. People usually give roses when they throw it on stage, right? The brunt looks around and sees the little owner of the theater walking about. “Excuse me, do you speak English?” Eren tapped her shoulder and asked in french.</p><p>“Why yes I do-“ She turned and was greeted to a five foot eleven german solider, “Um… how may I help you?”</p><p>Eren smiles and gestures towards the flowers, “I would like to give these to a performer, can I go find them?” The woman in front of him looked visibly shaken but the smile made her calm down a bit.</p><p>“They should all be in their dressing rooms, right down the hall.” She put her hand on his elbow and led him to a hall. He assumed she would be forced to show him if she wanted to or not, making this one hundred times easier. The uniform comes in handy sometimes.</p><p>He tilts his hat, “Thank you. Your show was lovely.” Eren walked down the hall and took note of the names on the doors. The sheet said the man who sang is named “Jean Kirschtein” so at the end of the hall, there was his room. </p><p>Easy enough, just knock on the door. Eren rose his fist and stopped before hitting the wood. What if he freaks him out because of what he’s wearing? Maybe he should leave the roses by the door. Oh but what if he steps on them? </p><p>By the time Eren could decide, the door moved. A yawning blonde opened the door to a german solider. “Huh?” Jean looked down at him and was visibly nervous.</p><p>The brunt gulped. “Hello! I really enjoyed your performance, please have these.” Eren held out his flowers.</p><p>“Oh…” The blonde stood in front of him for a moment then taking his flowers, “Thank you, I’m glad you liked my act. I hope you come again.”</p><p>That voice was music to his ears and he wasn’t even singing. “Thank you for accepting the flowers, have a wonderful day!” Eren awkwardly walked off quickly to avoid further embarrassment. Hope he wasn’t too scared.</p><p>Checking the time, Eren needed to head back to the base. He went through the pack of people easily, lots of people do not want to touch or even accidentally aggravate a german soldier.</p><p>Dinner at the mess halls went as usual, Braun and Hoover were messing around and sometimes Arlert would join in. It was always fun with them, they made this dark place seem brighter. </p><p>At the end of the night, Eren showered with the others and got dressed for bed. He usually stayed up later than Arlert because his mind never seems to let him sleep peacefully. Whenever he was too restless, he’d sketch what was on his mind onto a notebook his sister gave him. Tonight was one of those nights. Eren scrimmaged through his sheets to find a writing material and began sketching. The one thing that was clouding his mind was the theater and that one performer. Getting a closer look at him, he was definitely handsome. He got so nervous he barely could think in his presence. A sharp jawline, soft hazel eyes with longer eyelashes, his face being long and sculpted. Eren felt like a woman in his presence never feeling so attached to anyone in his life, let alone a man. Oh well, he’s sure everyone feels like that.</p><p>In the end, he sketched out a tall man on a stage and finally brought himself to sleep. He’s definitely going to go back soon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>jean pov next chapter woop woop</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jean’s pov.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i’m so bad at chapter summaries but oh well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jean was not a morning person.</p><p>The man was not patient, he wished to be woken up by the creeping sunlight into his room, birds chirping on his terrace, a perfect way to start the day. No. Instead, the blonde was awakened by a tall, freckled woman shaking him violently.</p><p>“Jean! Jean! Oh my god please wake up everything is going to ashes!” She shook him and a smaller girl rushed right next to her.</p><p>“Can you fucking stop!” He slapped her hands away and sat up to see his two roommates, petrified. “What’s wrong?” He smelled smoke.</p><p>The smaller blonde shuffled and grabbed onto the woman’s arm, “So we tried to make you breakfast and um you should go see.”</p><p>An exaggerated groan came from his mouth as he jumps out of bed to go to the kitchen. A fire. “HOW?” Jean grabbed a towel, put it in the sink and threw it on top of it. The fire wasn’t large, just the top of the stove and it quickly died off. “How do you two not know how to put out a fire?”</p><p>Jean lived with two women. Many called him a lucky man and he doesn’t even know how this happened. When he moved into the city of Paris, he needed to split the rent so his friend from highschool came with him. Ymir was a loudmouthed woman in their class but the both of them are blunt so they got along. Many people in their class always predicted they would get married but Ymir? Absolutely not. Not six months later, the freckled woman brought another girl home as her “friend”. Her friend was Historia, an intelligent (not smart enough to put out a fire), nice girl in front of most people but at home she’s attached to Ymir and reveals herself to them. She’s just as blunt and inconsiderate but that’s what made the three of them so compatible. Jean questions their friendship but he doesn’t try to prod them as they’ll just shoo him off.</p><p>“Well, it’s a fire and I got cold feet! The first thing that came to mind is waking you up and would you look at that, the fire is out. I think we made the right call.” Ymir put her arm around Historia’s waist and gave Jean a smirk.</p><p>He rolls his eyes and looks down to see his lack of clothing. “You should probably get dressed. Maybe get some meat on those bones while you’re at it.” They moved their way to the couch and giggled about something Jean didn’t hear.</p><p>Jean makes his way to his room and drops onto his bed. He falls, attempting to go back to sleep, fails, and decides he’s awake “Ugh.” He begrudgingly stands on his feet and makes his way to his dresser. Jean looks for his best suit and tie since he’s performing tonight.</p><p>Ever since he was a little boy, Jean’s mother would always take him to theaters and performances to entertain him. Entertained he was, after every performance little Jean would learn and sing all the songs he saw the night before, definitely annoyed other kids at school but his mother was supporting as always. When he got older, he joined the church’s chorus and had old ladies swoon for him. Although unappreciated, Jean was proud someone liked his voice. When he graduated, the blonde packed his bags to sing in Paris. On a whim, he stumbled by a theater that was looking for performers and met the sweetest woman, Petra.</p><p>The blonde performs monday through thursday and saturdays with songs that Petra chooses, finding what would fit the mood best. She likes putting him as an opener because she says his singing is “loud” and “attention grabbing”. Jean loves his job, his apartment, even his annoying roommates. He wouldn’t give it away for a moment.</p><p>“I’m leaving for the theater, please don’t set fire to the kitchen again or I’m kicking you two out.” He walks to the door to grab his coat and shoots a dagger their way.</p><p>“We’ll do our best!”</p><p>“You can’t get rid of us if you tried.” Ymir snarks and sends another smirk his way. Jean rolls his eyes, knowing how true that statement is, and steps out of the apartment.</p><p>The theater isn’t too far away, he usually walks there. Paris has been seemingly depressed ever since the Germans came in. Jean felt a deep pit in his stomach thinking about their defeat. He didn’t join the military because he would rather die than be stuck in the trenches. Jean was also just scared of those battles, his father dying in the great war. Every time he passes a German soldier he feels like a disappointment to his country, Jean usually stays home to avoid that feeling.</p><p>After about five minutes, he reaches Petra’s theater. Jean loved the look of it, it was built about thirty years ago and it’s surrounded by cafés and bakery’s. It feels like a second home. He enters and is already bombarded by two more idiots.</p><p>“Jeanbo!” A redhead girl grabbed onto his arm and started to drag him to the dressing rooms.</p><p>“We’ve been waiting for you! No one else is as funny as you!” Another man comes up behind him, rocking a buzz cut covered with a fedora. These two are Sasha and Connie, a pair of erratic dancers that were made for each other in terms of hyperactivity and appetite. They were performers of Petra’s a year before Jean came and they welcomed him with open arms. They’ve now attached themselves to him because no one else can take their special sense of humor for an extended amount of time.</p><p>They walk to Jean’s dressing room (he use to share with Connie, he complained enough to Petra to get his own) and the blonde finally shook them off. “You don’t have to cling to me! I can barely walk.” He audibly groans and sits in his chair. As much as he looks to be irritated, Jean has a special place for them. It’s never a dull night.</p><p>“Whatever, you’re strong enough to carry me. And Connie, hell I can carry him!” Sasha puts an arm around her partner’s shoulders. “Anyways, I can’t wait to hear you sing! You always get me weak in the knees.”</p><p>“Uh thank you Sasha.”</p><p>“She’s not the only one! You can even make a man fall for that voice.” Connie and Sasha both swoon.</p><p>“Thank you Connie, you’re so helpful.” Jean rolls his eyes and looks at the mirror to fix his hair. “Shouldn’t you two, oh I don’t know, practice your act?”</p><p>The redhead snorts, “Oh Jeanie boy, we’re fast learners and we never forget a routine! I am a bit hungry, we should grab some food in the bakery next door.” She turns to her bo and they take their leave.</p><p>Sigh. You can even make a man fall for that voice. He has.</p><p>“Jean you’re on in five minutes!” A crew member whispers in his ear as he’s waiting backstage. Deep breaths. This is why Jean loves performing, the butterflies in his stomach, the adrenaline on stage keep him feeling alive. This is the longest five minutes of the day. He can catch a glance of Petra jumping on stage, putting an abundant amount of energy into introducing the shows tonight. It wasn’t long before she hopped to the left stage and it was his turn. Show time.</p><p>His performance was over in a flash and phew. Jean felt bad for the flowers he stepped on to exit the stage. After every performance he’d sit in his dressing room all alone. It didn’t used to be like this.</p><p>“Jean! That was great, I’m so proud of you.” A freckled man patted him on the back and gave him a bouquet of flowers. Red roses as always.</p><p>“You’re too kind to me Marco.” Jean gladly took his flowers and put it in a vase next to his mirror. Marco. His best friend. They met during Jean’s first performance of Jean’s in Petra’s theater. The freckled man knocked on his dressing room and gave a bouquet of red roses. When Jean would open the door, flowers would be at his door. This went on for a week before Jean caught him, when he questioned him, Marco simply smiled and said, “There’s something about your voice that’s so hypnotizing. I’d like to treat you, to dinner I mean. If you’ll let me.” And that was the start of their friendship.</p><p>He adores all his friends even if they get on his nerves but his freckled friend was a bit different from them. There was a spark in Marco’s eyes that took the breath out of him. “You know, your voice is jaw-dropping. I think you should try out and be a performer like me. You can be more than just a bread maker.”</p><p>Marco and his family owned a bakery near the theater and it was a homey, Jean would always go after every performance to talk to his best friend. “Oh please, I like working there. Although if you ever wanted to do a duet.” He giggles and stares at Jean. “I did want to ask you something.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah.” A step closer. “It’s important so don’t laugh at me okay?”</p><p>Jean nods. Another step closer. “So Jean.” He takes a hold of the blonde’s wrist. “I’ve noticed something.”</p><p>Something isn’t right, “What?” He looks down to his wrist and Marco pulls on it bringing Jean’s face close.</p><p>“I see the way you stare at me. I know what you want.” Marco’s half lidded now, giving Jean the most intense look he’s ever seen.</p><p>The blonde gulps, “What do I want?”</p><p>Marco leans into Jean’s ear and whispers, “Me.” He pulls away to press his lips onto the blonde.</p><p>Panic. Panic. This is wrong, this isn’t right. Marco is a grown man. He always felt drawn to him but not like this.</p><p>Jean tries to move away, Marco’s holding him too tight, he kicks him in his shin and pushes him off. “What the fuck! Don’t tell me that you’re actually…” He furiously wipes his lips. Jean wants to cry.</p><p>“Agh! Jean, what the hell? Who do you think you’re fooling?” Marco leans down to his shin, “You’re just as fruity as me, it’s so obvious.” He rises to his feet and softens his gaze at the blonde, “Jean. Don’t be scared of this, we can be happy together. We can run away and move to America. Live on a nice big farm with no neighbors, we might even be able to adopt some kids from the orphanage…” Another step closer, “Please just accept me…”</p><p>Every alarm in Jean’s brain was going off, “Marco,” the blonde grabs onto the taller man’s collared shirt, “Get the fuck out of this place, don’t ever speak to me ever again. I’m sorry your delusions caused you to think that this could ever happen.” Jean pushed Marco towards the door with a stern look.</p><p>Marco opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it. He makes his way to the door without a single goodbye. The last Jean had ever seen of his best friend.</p><p>He has no idea what happened to him after that. Jean assumed he moved on to some other man but after a month, Marco’s bakery was gone. Some rumored that the Germans took him in the middle of the night and his family hopped town. Some say he just left to pursue a new life in America. It doesn’t matter to Jean, he’ll never see him ever again. After that event, he went home and sobbed into Ymir’s arms. She didn’t say anything, he didn’t want her to. Jean just needed comfort.</p><p>There he is now, all alone in his dressing room. Connie and Sasha might be performing now, he doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there. Jean’s had an empty vase since then.</p><p>“I need to take a piss.” He rises from his chair and yawns, opens the door. “Huh?”</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>That’s a german soldier.</p><p>He opens the door to a smaller man who looked about to knock on his door. Jean stared at him in fear, rethinking every decision he’s ever made till now to understand why a man like that would be here.</p><p>The soldier shuffled and handed out a bouquet, “Hello! I really enjoyed your performance, please have these.” </p><p>Flowers? “Oh…” The blonde stood in front of him for a moment then taking his flowers. Jean thinks of the first comment that could get this man off his back, “Thank you, I’m glad you liked my act. I hope you come again.” Is this what the Germans do in their free time?</p><p>The German seemed to have brightened up, “Thank you for accepting the flowers, have a wonderful day!” He quickly rushed off, looking as if has somewhere to be.</p><p>Jean shut the door and sunk to his knees. “That could have been bad…” For a moment, he thought of Marco. Was this how he felt? A pit of darkness in your stomach, your life being in danger. He rose to his feet and looked at the flowers. It’d be a waste to put them in the bin, he grabbed the empty vase and placed the bouquet in it.</p><p>“Who was at your door?” Ymir stared at Jean with a scared look in her eye. The blonde made it home after that ordeal and was making her dinner. Historia was out doing a “job” although Jean wasn’t quite sure what she does this late at night.</p><p>He turned to her with a smirk, “A german soldier. I wasn’t in trouble, in fact he gave me flowers because he liked my performance.” Jean stirred the pot, he was making spaghetti.</p><p>“Well that’s a bit queer. You think he’s going to go back and do it again?” She returned the smirk and moved impatiently in her seat.</p><p>“I sure hope not, he gave me a fucking heart attack by standing there.” Ymir laughed and they ate together.</p><p>The freckled woman told Jean about her day, cuddling with Historia and going out to lunch with her. “You need to get a girl Jean! It won’t be Historia or I. Do you want to be old and wrinkly and all alone?”</p><p>“I won’t be alone! Don’t you see how handsome I am? I could pick up any girl in the city and have a happy marriage with kids, and move into the country.” He took a bite out of his bread and gave Ymir a look.</p><p>“That sounds boring.”</p><p>“When are you going to get a man?”</p><p>Ymir laughs hysterically, “Can you really see me, marrying a man? I have to laugh.”</p><p>“That does sound hard to believe but you can’t marry Historia,” Jean sighs, “You want to be with her, don’t you?” Ymir opens her mouth, like she wants to retort but she just shuts it, nodding her head.</p><p>“I do. I love her Jean. She’s everything I ever wanted and more. I know we keep lying to you saying that we aren’t but we’re too obvious. You’re the only one who knows.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.</p><p>Jean has been skeptical of them since the beginning but deep down he always knew, “That’s fine Ymir. I hope you two are happy.” The blonde sees the way they look at each other, absolutely in love. He wants that so bad.</p><p>“Thanks man… and if you so dare to fall for a man…”</p><p>“No. I like women Ymir.”</p><p>She snickers, “It’s always funny how we were always together in highschool like our personalities just radiated each other. It wouldn’t be surprising if you were-“</p><p>“Great dinner, you’re washing the dishes since you created a fire this morning. I’m going to bed.” He cut her off and walked straight to his room. Jean undresses and flops onto his bed. Like hell he likes men.<br/>
He drags the covers on him and drifts off to the thoughts of what new songs Petra will bring him.</p><p>Wonder how that soldier is doing? He shakes off that thought. He’ll hopefully never see him ever again.</p>
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